You can't step in the same river twice
by Liberum.Arbitrium
Summary: Killing yourself isn't always the smartest idea, doing so after pissing off fate's cradles is also equally if not more stupid, waking up as an eleven year old is simply bizarre, seeing Prim again is a gift, knowing what is going to happen is a curse, yet a second chance is a delusion, because after all, you can't change one thing without changing everything else.


Hello

"You don't remember what happened. What you remember _becomes_ what happened."- J ohn Green

**Prologue**

**To kill a Mockingjay**

_"Exhaustion has a way of parting the veils between men, not so much because the effort of censoring their words exceeds them, but because weariness is the foe of volatility. Often at times insults that would pierce the wakeful simply thud against the sleepless and fatigued."  
― R. Scott Baker,_

* * *

_"Are you preparing for another war, Plutarch?" I ask._

_"Oh, not now. Now we're in that in that sweet period where everyone agrees that our resent horrors should never be repeated." he says. "But Collective thinking is usually short-lived. We are fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self distruction. Although who knows? Maybe this will be it, Katniss."_

_"What?" I ask._

_"The time it sticks, Maybe we are witnessing the evolution of the human race."_

This is the conversation that is replaying itself in my mind, stuck on repeat as the victor of the 76th hunger games is crowned. Personally, I think that we are not witnessing the evolution of the human race. In fact, I think the human race has gone down one or two points in the evolution scale, after all, what is evolved about repeating continuously the same mistakes again and again, it is madness. Then again, weren't humans anything but mad?

The Capitol games, as they were named, lasted three days, a record in comparison with it's forefathers. The victor of such games was shaking from head to toe, looking like it was his pure will alone that kept him from pissing on himself as he watched the playbacks.

To be honest, I didn't expect Paylor to make the children fight, I had thought she was above killing children to prove a point. It was during the reaping of these games did I learn from a drunken Haymitch that Alma Coin had everything in action before her death, it was part of the deal to get a few districts on her side, written practically in blood. Even if she wanted too Paylor couldn't of stopped it from happening, you just had to love politics.

Haymitch patted me on the back and said I had finally gotten a child's understanding of the reality in politics, and how proud he was that I wasn't as stupid as I looked. I responded to his comforting statement by throwing the bottle at the wall, and replied with a witty line I heard in the Seam somewhere. He just ignored me and mourned the loss of his drink, bastard.

In the town square, or at least what was left of it, a few hundred or so people were watching the large screen that was being held by two hovercrafts. Around one third of the survivors of the booming's returned to district 12, it looked so empty now, although district 12 was never anything special to begin with, there used to be some places that held a sort of different beauty.

The hob, which used to be full of people, was now nothing but charred ash, the meadow, a recently turned mass graveyard, other places stood out in my mind, the root from school to the Seam and the stretch of young wild flowers in between, the small tradition that all the younger seam kids would pick one and play with it on the way home, the few hours of peace after the miners shift ended, the barter in town, even the coal that used to be etched on every surface that fluttered in the breeze, something I thought I would never miss, was now gone.

The few hundred people who returned were a mix of people from the merchants and those from the Seam, although most were from the latter, there was a strange sense of equality in the air, it had been around for a while now, maybe it was the unity people felt from district 12.

Maybe it didn't matter that there was barley anything left, or that so many people had died, district 12 was home, joined in grief by the emptiness within district 12, a few hundred people compared to the thousands that used to live here showed, the majority of survivors who believed district 12 held too many memories to stand, like my mother, fled to other districts to start again, I didn't blame them.

But maybe it wouldn't been so empty if there was more children, more lucky families who were still alive, people who didn't have an air of paranoia and wariness around them, those still able to feel happy. It was true, most of the people still in this district were either old, by normal district terms, who lived there entire life here, too long to just leave, and those who used to do business at the hob, the tough and the brave, before Thread destroyed the place, the rest just stayed for their own reasons.

Usually people kept to themselves, some finding solace in others, most working to remove the bodies, which after a year are finally gone, but it was the first time all of us were out together, I felt some sort of emotion in me, I couldn't really describe it honestly, it was some mixed between bitterness and dread, sadness and irony. The remains of the town center that used to be packed once a year were again filled with the residents of district 12, yet all of us together didn't even fill a quarter of the space.

The reaping and games were not mandatory to watch, but who wouldn't? The tributes of these games were children from the Capitol citizens, the people who found joy in our district children's deaths. Nearly every district hated the Capitol, it was mostly out of revenge that people watched the games at all.

All around me people were talking in groups, it was now night time, but the 'improvised' markets were still open, a cross between the hob and the town ones, leaning more towards the earlier. I was standing next to Thom, someone who had survived the booms and the revolution and had returned home.

I remember him from before I was reaped, a friend of Gales who now took to baby sitting me, treating me with a neutral and mild attitude, that was a lot more than most, a friend even. Then again, I don't really think I had the mental stability to have friends anymore.

The mind is a wonderus thing, for the past few months, during the "healing" phases Dr. Aurelius was so fond of talking about, he gave two books, one on the human mind, as well as one on the physiology of humans. I believe it was his attempt at distant therapy, after his last 'visit' I do not believe he was to willing to return to District 12.

Apparently, I am borderline insane, with depression, mania, insomnia, psychotic behavior, self destructive tendencies... on and on in relatively aimless order it goes until finally two pages later it ends at bipolar something and a thought disorder. It is surprising how many things can be wrong with a person. The magical thing is that there is a small colorful happy pill for every single on of these things, even for the thought disorder, because apparently even my thought process has been destroyed, along with everything else that is. With those cheerful thoughts in mind I remember what Aurelius told me to do when my thoughts, as they do increasingly, is to pull myself back on a string, to focus on the real world instead of my own.

Ripper's stall was overcrowded with people drinking, Haymitch loudly laughing when the winner of the 76th games finally turned a darkish blue color and vomited while watching the repays, Haymitch wasn't the only one who laughed.

The capitol tributes were extremely shocked at having to participate in their own hunger games, they went insane at the reapings, every one of them was crying and begging, a few trying to flee, no volunteers were aloud. Snow's granddaughter turned out to be reaped, what a surprise, yet my throat clenched when I saw her, she looked so scarred.

How is it possible that a girl sobbing as she mounted the stage, with pale pink skin and terrified doe eyes could even be related to Snow? She almost reminded me of Prim...No, I really couldn't afford to think like that anymore.

The area it's self was a horrid one, it was small, just a tiny snow capped mountain, with a small dark forest at the around the base, the arena couldn't of been more than five miles each way, with nothing but a few sparing supplies and a pile of speared clubs. Entire flocks of jabberjays screamed at every corner, a tracker jacker nest on every few trees, and the mutts, so many mutts were in that arena, and they truly were the things of nightmares, it made my encounters with the wolves, the monkeys, even the half human, half lizard things seem laughable, simple even.

These mutations killed the majority of the tributes in the most goriest of fashions, it was so slow, so bloodily, I was both disgusted and fascinated by them. There was no need to entertain the capitol with a flashy fight and a quick death, no it was all about making the tributes feel nothing but simply agony till their death.

You would think that given the capitol people love the games, visit past arena's and reenact there favorite scene's that they would have some idea of how to survive, but a few very expensive lesson's on how to hold a sword and pose with it seemed to be the grits of it.

Few quite skilfully knew what to do with a bow or a sword, yet they knew nothing about finding food or water, first aid... Although knowing those things wouldn't of made a difference during these games.

There was some sort of bitter amusement in this games the small ironic twists played into them, one girl, with bluish hair and talons as chewed apart by some sort of animal, a mix between a spider, a fox, and something with scales, the thing didn't even eat her, slowly ripped her till she was nothing but a pile of bloody shreds.

This was when a few monkey and beaver like mutts joined and started to do this strange dance on the pile, one that looked uncannily like the dance the members of district twelve danced at Finnick and Annie's wedding, turning the bloody mess into a very neat Ariel image of a mockingjay, crafted in blood.

There were other little things, such as the tributes facing each other in badly fitting and well worn grey clothes from 13, most almost freezing to death, before dying in much more painful and bloody ones, little quotes from Snow were carved into rocks, trees, even the supplies, every single caved saying by the end of the games was either urinated on or covered in a capitols tributes blood.

My famous words, '_If we burn, you burn with us_' were literally burned into the mountain, along with two other tributes.

The games were over after the victor slit the throat of the infamous grand daughter of Coriolanus Snow, who was hanging from two knifes, her body was half eaten, leg rotting from a blood infection and stomach swollen with worms. Merciless, that was what the victory of the 76th games was, the victor him self lost his leg and and half his face, something even the Capitol couldn't fix.

He barely kept himself alive, but he was fast, had a good sense of direction and was decent with a club, he won, but I guessed if the vomit and the tears on his face were anything to go by, he was already regretting it.

I just couldn't find myself to summon up any rage, any anger, I felt numb. I was just fine being lost in my own little world of grief and regret when Haymitch pulled me from it.

Thinking about it though, he was just as bad as me, ever since Haymitch was sent back to twelve to look after me he hasn't stopped drinking. He didn't want to be here, that much was obvious, I knew what he wanted to do, at least I think he did, but still, like me, was to prideful, scared even to do so.

The sudden noise around me pulled me out of my musing. All around me in fact people were in some sort of contradiction, a few appeared triumphant, elated even, others angry, but most seemed to be in some sort of shock, Haymitch was the one who caught my attention though, next to a pale looking Rooba, around ten meters away, still on his stool with a drink in hand, he smiled.

He had an odd bemused smile on his face. I had seen that smile a few times, one of them being when I shot Alma Coin, another at the victor tour at district 11. It meant one thing._ Well shit_. I turned my head and looked at the screen. Paylor was on the screen, looking furious, reading from a sheet of crisp, white paper with the Capitol seal on it.

"...And as such, from the positive reactions the districts displayed towards these games, it has been voted that the Capitol games will continue every year for ten years, to justify the deaths of our districts children so their lives, their brave sacrifices will not be in vain, those who held our children ransom for so many years will pay for every child they sent to death for entertainment." Paylor nodded with a tight smile and said something else, but I ignored it.

I missed most of that speech, but a few official looking people were muttering, Plutarch seemed to be laughing, I heard him mutter, 'well that was quick' before the screen turned to replays of the victor.

I started laughing then, people were looking at me as if I was insane. Of course, keep the Capitol in line by sending the Capitols children to the games. Plutarch was wrong, we don't have a gift for self destruction,it was like a toxin inside of us, we fucking radiated it.

_' __What has been proposed is that in lieu of eliminating the Capitol's cruel and twisted control over us, instead of one final, symbolic Hunger Games, using the children directly related to those who held the most power, we will make them pay for every child they sent to death for entertainment_'

I had to give Alma credit, the way that last statement was worded was perfect. The twisting of Snows words, the difference between for every child and capitol citizens, flawless, perfect, and all Coin.

I think I have finally snapped, I was on a thin thread of sanity before but that's gone now. Tears were streaming down my face from how hard I was laughing as I tried to gasp for air.

My eyes were glazed over from the screen and back to Haymitch, he looked straight back at me, we are so similar that words are not even needed, I can see it in his eyes, how melodramatic. He grabbed a bottle of liquor and stumbles towards me, grabbing my arm and dragging me home. Ignoring the whispers of towards me, and the mutters of 'bloody deserves it' 'minds gone' and 'It's all to much for that girl.'

I hear Thom asking Haymitch if he wanted help, and Haymitch's reply of '_nah mate, I got it'_ but all I can focus on is the sentence from months ago running through my mind.

_And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies._

For the first few months I was lost in my world of darkness, sit in my rocking chair, eating when Sae came twice a day, after a month Sae and her little grand daughter felt like a crowd. I was lost in my memories, wondering who Peeta was, how he was, why Prim was gone, and how I even became a mockingjay. A few months ago I managed to start talking again.

But when the Capitol games were aired, Haymitch dragged me over to town to watch them. He said you voted for them, you got them. I regretted that ever since. He broke me out of my trance, he was harsh, telling me truths I didn't want to hear, and threatened to send me back to the capitol doctors specifically without drugs, that snapped me out of my daze.

I couldn't go back to that place, not again, not back to that horrid place, and without morphing, it would be torture for me, anyone really, Haymitch knew this, hence after few screaming matches and a crying breakdown. I force myself to get out of the house and talk again, I even started to get a little better, I talked to the doctors and followed there advice like a good little pet but this, I couldn't take it, this was never meant to happen.

He took me home, treating me like a child, I want to snap at him but don't have it in me anymore. we reach my porch, I have gone home, he looks like he is about to do the same when he stops, looks at me with an amazingly sober stare and said.

"I just wanted to get out. Out of the fake Capitol lights and colours. Out of sending two kids to death each year, Out to where I could fuck off and die in peace, so I joined that bloody revolution, but why Katniss, it was all meant to be over, no more games, but it's not, so why don't I just kill myself and get it over with?"

I knew why he was asking me this, I had been pondering that same question myself, our personalities are so similar that he might as well be asking himself, which is why he _was_ asking me. Because whoever said you can't lie to yourself obviously has never had a drink.

You can spin it anyway you like. Snow thought of the games were an efficient way of Control. Coin thought the parachutes would expedite the war, the Capitol games were simply an extra, to keep the Capitol in control, but in the end, who does it benefit? No one. The truth is that nobody gains anything to live in a world where these things happen.

But the fact that people want these games, it shouldn't be even possible. I could check, call my mother, Annie, Pluratch, Johanna, Sae, Enobaria even, to see if this was actually true, fight for it to be canceled, scream and force another revolution, but I knew it was what the people wanted.

If I had just been some extra, nothing but another face with a relatively simple life, not losing everything, family, soul even, to these games, I would of wanted the same thing. Things were better now, why not send a the Capitol kids to a few games? Let them feel what every one else felt. It wasn't as if we were making them send seventy four years worth, only ten years, which to most would be justified. I can see the nods of defense from the districts now in my head, removing guilt from the equation.

So I answered his question, after thinking about my words carefully I tell him something he already knows.

"Because we made the mistake of thinking everyone was like us, but they weren't, they don't know the truth, most people haven't lost everything to the games, we have, and almost everyone we personally know also has, but the mass of Panem hasn't, to them, the games were simply a bad dream, they fought to get rid of the Capitols control, watching the Capitols kids get killed is a bonus, if it don't effect them, why bother fighting it." I smiled at my pun and my wit, how insightful and non insane I sound, maybe there is a point where you go so far around the bend you end up going straight.

Haymitch looked faintly surprised, I'm guess it had to do with the fact that had to be the longest sentence I have spoken since Prim died, my throat clenched but I forced it away.

So thing changed then, the air around me stilled, and my breath caught in my throat as images flashed threw my mind. Feelings, memories that were not mine, and for an instant I felt something near me, something I could not understand, fear crept up towards me.

But there is a silver lining in being as utterly broken as me, you stop caring about the present, about feelings and thoughts of the now, to be insane is to live your life in the past, drowned in memories that will never go away.

"The same goes for suicide, we have been through to much to just quit without a fight, it isn't how we victors work." I ignored the lingering thoughts of confusion and regret, focusing on the conversation instead.

Haymitch chuckles darkly, and seems to be contemplating something, then with a stumble walks to my porch, leans on the rail and after a long drink, gives me the bottle and answered the question I was just about to ask.

"Bullshit sweetheart, look at you, you're on deaths door already." His words were harsh and cruel, but I understand why.

He has gone over the edge, stuck in between a place of shock and despair, just like me, I wonder if he can hear the sounds of excitement in his head too. Taking a large drink, the liquid burns as it sloshed down my throat, but afterwards the burn turned into a warm buzz, I take another drink and pass the bottle back to Haymitch.

We fought, we suffered, and we won the war, yet we didn't change anything, so why did we even fight in the first place. Sure things were better in some ways, hell they even were planning on making District 12 create medicine and farming, people had more food and so on, I hear they are even reforming the government, picking a few from each district to represent the districts, or something like that.

But I lost Prim, my mother, Gale, my life, while not the best, it was my life, and it is gone, selfish as it was I wanted to take everything back. I give up, the girl on fire has burned up, the flame is gone, and replace with a broken mockingjay who never wanted to be a mockingjay in the first place.

Two years ago I would of turned bright red, then lied horribly and stepped around him, if caught I would of most likely accused him of treating me like a child, not realizing what he was implying. I smiled wistful, back then I really was just a child, pretending I was ready to lead a war.

Even if I was just the not exactly pretty face, a symbol, I wasn't ready for it, I had too much pride, and was too naive to understand the deeper and darker meanings that went along with war. No wonder why Haymitch smirked whenever I brought up plans of running away or doing something stupid.

I broke the silence with a question I should of asked long ago. "Why did you let me do it?" He raised his eyebrows and said, half sober.

"Which time?" I sighed and said, in a calm voice, or at least something I hope resembled a calm voice. Manipulation, he was implying it happened more than once, what if it did? No, I will not go down that road, paranoia is my new middle name these days, everything seemed to be a trigger. Fuck, I am not ready for this shit.

"Be the mockingjay? I wasn't ready for the role and all shit that came with it, and you knew it, everyone did in fact, I looked like an idiot, fuck I was one." He rolled his eyes and snorted.

"The districts were fooled, the Capitol was fooled, hell most of the dear revolution fighters were fooled, you did a good job in front of the camera kid, that's all that really mattered." He said it with some tact, but it rubbed me the wrong way, I sighed, suddenly feeling so tired.

"My point exactly, I was just a decoy, but I didn't know it then, I though I was leading the bloody rebellion." Haymitch gave a large grin and said. "But that was the reason why you _were_ the decoy, the one who was filmed, because you believed it, and it showed on the cameras, you can't act for shit kid, or at least back then you couldn't, so better let you think you're running the show, let you have what you want and plan everything around you." He ended by taking a large swig and finished with.

"But maybe you should of, because this wasn't how it was meant to fucking end." He closed his blood shot eyes, voice wary.

Haymitch and I have a strong relationship when it comes to the more black and white things. Surviving. Killing. Drinking. Manipulating. Taking down Snow. But when we get into this gray area, the strange place of human emotion that neither of us are good with things start to go wrong.

He is the same as me, I refuse to face life's minor problems, survival is the first and for most important thing on my mind, his too, when he isn't drunk. And sometimes, existence is too big to handle, so oftentimes, I choose not to handle it at all, almost like Annie in a way.

It's the safest way to be. It's a fucked up world, sometimes life can almost seem like a game. Life is just a series of risks and chances, and for those of us that like a solid footing at all times, we try not to play at all.

"It wasn't fair." I suddenly felt like an idiot for voicing that thought aloud. Life had never been nice, and it was a childish think to say. I regretted it. Haymitch barked and said dryly.

"Yes, well neither is anything else in this shithole, so sweetheart, want to see if you go to hell or not?" I look at him, startled for a moment, the belief in god was a sore spot in district twelve, only mentioned really in curses or songs, it was rare for someone to reference religion in that manner.

Apparently god and religion from what I knew about it played a large part in the breakdown of society before Panem was even created, it was around for thousands of years and it was very important to our ancestors, there were any different ones, all thinking they were the right one, why? I have no idea, but I rather avoid that topic, like most people in district 12, it wasn't something you talked about.

Because afterall, who like the idea that there was something out there that controlled us, the capitol, obviously banned the practice, they were our creators and rulers, having two different versions of oppressors just seemed unfair.

So with a nod I say. "Might as well, any last words or secrets to be revealed?"

Blunt and to the point, formalities and Haymitch didn't really go together.

"Well" He began, taking another long drink, he seemed to be thinking, then said. "Nope." popping the P. He tilted his head and said. "What about you sweetheart?" I shook my head, but I was hesitant, my duty was done, but there was that lingering voice in my mind that screamed at me to stop, think of your mother, Annie even Gale, stop this, it a mistake, I ignored this voice with practiced ease. Then I realized something.

"I think I'm scared of being forgotten, because if I'm gone, who will remember everyone else." Haymitch snorted, and said. "Well, I guess life gonna have to survive without us." He cackled at his lame joke, and drank away, but I thought about those words. Then Reworded them.

_Life goes on._ It's so obvious that I missed it, people always say _life goes on_, but it doesn't, at least, not like it did before. It sputters and stops at strange times I suddenly think of my being 'fixed' in the capitol, training for the arena, the interviews, it went on and on, doing everything the tributes, and victors have to do, with the life of our family and friends being hung over our heads, so with one last look at Haymitch I ask.

"We were never really free, were we?" Haymitch grins at that, arms crossed and head tilted to the sky, he does the unexpected, and replies quietly.

"Not since we are reaped." I muse on that, then copying his action I too look at the sky, it was mocking me, the night air was warm, and the sky was clear, leaving millions of millions twinkling brightly, I turn my head back to him and say bitterly.

"Well, we won." Haymitch barks and spoke in a amused voice, as if I was a child, I ignored his tone.

"You I both know nobody wins the Hunger Games," said Haymitch, "We become victor, sure, but nobody wins, we live. He dies and not you, and you feel guilty, because you're glad he died, and not you, the one out of twenty four tributes that got to live."

"It is all in the name." He goes on. "We don't win, we are victors, not happy, not safe, but victorious." I raise my head in agreement.

"Only to spend the rest of their lives wondering why."I say.

Haymitch does not answer, but a small smile is playing on his lips. I suddenly remembered that he was a victor too, I focused my eyes on him and watched him carefully, he was still and seemed peaceful, but his lips had a small pained smile on them, I comprehended something, he was my age when he won, the guilt, the questions must of been in his mind, playing again and again.

I had always thought of him as a drunken man who was a prick, but maybe that was what he wanted, to be the man people snort and roll their eyes at, not a man who lost his family at sixteen and has been sending two to death ever since, people never pity him, and I think thats what he has wanted all along.

I think I realized then that no matter how similar you are to a never really understand a person until you are that person, or at least forced into a remarkably similar situation.

"You really are Seam to the bone, aren't you." I questioned him, but I had no doubt in the first place. Haymitch smile grows larger, the replies with.

"Congrats sweetheart, you cracked the code, now drink."

With another sip, I thought about life before I was reaped, it was a simple one, not easy, but uncomplicated, I saw life as a day to day thing, knew what to expect, and was mostly happy with it, but if I could, would I go back to a life full of ignorance? yes, I would. I asked Haymitch what he would do, if he went back, his answer was a simple one.

"I wouldn't win, and take my place with every other unlucky bastard that died in the games."

It's silence after that, we share the last of the alcohol, passing the bottle back and forth till the liquor runs out and we're both semi drunk. Haymitch stumble away towards his house and looks back at me, I see the conflict in his eyes.

He knows what I am going to do, he knows he tries to stop me I will find another way, drowning, setting myself on fire, a rather ironic way to go, hanging, slitting my wrists, staving myself... I kept listing things, on and on it went, until Haymitch finally chuckled a broken laugh, or was it a sob and looked at me.

"I get the picture sweetheart, go on, kill yourself, I give up, it's been a year and I am still looking at a walking corpse. I need a drink."

He walked away, and I looked as his retreating figure. I hadn't realized I was speaking aloud. I stared at the space were he was standing, and suddenly feel alone. I had a feeling that I wouldn't be the only one committing suicide this night.

Wondering if I should be glad or upset over Haymitchs lack of resistance, I walked, well stumbled really, to the forest. The high fence was turned off and prepped up with a stick. In practice, it wasn't the smartest plan, I was drunk, it was dark and nightlock bushes were hard to find around this side of the forest, but I was content. It was rare that I went into the forest at night, as it was harder to find for then in daylight hours.

Early spring, that was the old Katniss's favorite time of day, the woods awaking after a long winter, but now spring reminds me of Peeta, of Prim, of early mornings hunting with Gale, of all the things I had lost. But now the night beckons me.

The bright night sky, which no longer mocked me, the darkness, which no longer scared me, the peace, which no longer was with me.

I suddenly loved the night, as the day was still to painful to think about, it reminded me of a dandelion, that thinks might become good again, that life will go on, the world will heal, but I haven't, and I can't.

But as luck would have it, yell of triumph, I found a small dying bush, the small berries hanging loosely. I wonder what I mut look like, bone thin and covered with scars. Broken, depressed and about to kill myself, grinning at the berries in my hand. Picking a berry and carefully twirling it in my fingers_, _I could feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest, and I started to cry.

God knows why, I haven't cried in years, the image of me, dead and being eaten my wild animals crossed my mind, along with how my mother would react, I suddenly felt so selfish, but I don't want to live anymore, it was too tiring, to sad, I was ready to give up, well not really, but it was the most I would ever be.

Everything seemed to become very still then, the sounds of the night, the wind, the birds, the insects all silenced. The hairs on my neck pricked, I was being watched, I knew I was. My eyes were still closed, but a voice started to whisper in my ear.

_Do it, you destroyed everything, now lets try again._

My heart thumped loudly against my broken body, I was scared, frozen, but my hand was still moving slowly, mockingly towards my mouth, and when placed on my lips I crushed the berry in my mouth with one swift movement, I didn't even fight it, I didn't even think I could, the fear had paralyzed me.

All that I could remember was the sudden sugary taste exploded in my mouth and nerves stinging all over my body, my vision blurring and my tongue feeling all of a sudden dry. My throat was closing up and the panic started, I heard I strange sound that I realized was me, the sudden need to stop, the will to live flashed though me before everything turned black, nerves in my body tingling and painfully contracting within me before everything, my fear, my sight, my breath faded into nothingness.

* * *

**Prologue Completed, and thank you for reading the first chapter and hopefully many more to come, the only thing I ask is that you read the Authors notes, they explain a lot about the characters and the story Plot on a whole, if they aren't needed I'll keep them a line or two shot and the disclaimer. Reviews welcome, constructive criticism will be ****greatly appreciated**.

**Well, that's it for now, prologue is done.**


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